


fool's gold

by xiomarisol



Category: Glee
Genre: Character Study, Eating Disorders, F/F, Female Friendship, Gen, Injury Recovery, Past Sexual Abuse, not heavy romance, our girls are suffering but they are there for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xiomarisol/pseuds/xiomarisol
Summary: The Unholy Trinity is perfect, or so they say.-or, we finally talk about those things that glee refuses to talk about and acknowledge the ways in which the unholy trinity is suffering.
Relationships: Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez, Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce, Santana Lopez/Brittany S. Pierce
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	1. santana

**Author's Note:**

> yeah... listen, this was 1. written in 2014 and it's a repost and 2. written at a time in my life where i was suffering and it's angsty and painful but there's always hope and these girls find it in each other. there are three parts: santana, brittany, and quinn. 
> 
> warnings!  
> santana: deals with an eating disorder  
> brittany: deals with past sexual assault of the alien invasion variety  
> quinn: deals with beth and the accident and quinn kind of wants to die for a second there
> 
> please stay safe!!

Santana Lopez was easily one of the golden girls at McKinley, she was a star flier on the Cheerios, on the honor roll, universally desired and universally feared. Everyone secretly wanted to be like her. She had no wonder why, when she stared into the large full-length mirror in her bedroom that was secretly her worst enemy. Often she looked into it and tried to see what Brittany claimed she saw, but all she got was disappointment. She had tried so hard to change her body—to make it the right body, but as much as she tried she could not come close to loving it. She was getting thinner with every day that passed—eighty-eight pounds now, to be exact—and yet she _still_ felt foreign inside her body, felt betrayed.

She tried to punish her body, berating it, holding it to an Olympian ideal that was deeply unfair to it. She ate exactly once a day, and grew accustomed to the hunger pangs that coursed her body when she hadn’t eaten for a while. She grew comfortable with the pain that ripped throughout her body as her body begged her to eat. It reminded her of success. Because being beautiful is important. Thin is beautiful. Santana is the best flier on the cheerleading squad and if she was any heavier, she’d be less effective. Less protected.

Staying thin was her greatest duty, well, that and keeping it a secret. Nobody could know, or everything would have been ruined. So when Mercedes opened her big mouth in glee club with a “Like you eat” comment, her heart did a double take. The words caught her off-guard and she felt her smug smirk slip. Dark eyes danced down as her lips slowly began to lose their curl. Since when did people notice what she did or didn’t do? Since when did they care? She at last managed to lift her gaze only to find that everyone was looking at Mercedes still. _Oh, wait._ She had mistaken noticing for caring. Again. Her bad.

She didn’t notice the pair of hazel eyes that watched her as she rolled her eyes and brushed her hands down the front of her cheerios skirt, rebuilding her composure. _No one saw,_ she told herself. Or if they did, they weren’t going to say something. Good to know that she could depend on her teacher and her “family.” Seriously, what great observational skills they had. She wasn’t mad at them though, not really. She was angrier with herself for not being careful enough. I was her fault, she shouldn’t have ever let the thought even cross their mind. It didn’t matter. She didn’t need them, she just needed the stage and the singing and the dancing and the…Brittany. She needed Brittany.

Because when you are a child you believe that anything is possible. And you never dwell on the consequences or on what other people will think of you. You do what you want, simply because it makes you happy. Brittany still had that. She was definitely not a child, but she got to hold on to the magic that most people lose as they get older. Santana lost all of it, but Brittany had more than enough for the both of them. Santana needed Brittany for that.

And she needed Mercedes to shut the fuck up and sit _down_ already. The girl did more whining about Rachel than she did singing, and then she wondered why she didn’t get more solos.

When the practice ended, Santana slipped out of the auditorium ahead of everyone else. _No one would notice, no one would care._ That’s what she told herself as she quickly made her way around a corner, through the bathroom’s door and straight into a stall. Santana was careful to hang her bag on the hook of the door so that it wouldn’t give her away as she fell to her knees in front of the bowl and curled her arms around it. Dark eyes stared into the water, the smell of the poorly-cleaned water filling her nostrils. It wasn’t too bad compared to how it smelled after.

She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead forward to lean on her arm, trying to both talk herself into it and out of it. Eating disorders, she knew, were awful. Bulimia was a lot worse because the acid in vomit could wear away at the tooth enamel and it could cause her teeth to fall out. Therefore, it was a very rare go-to for her, and then only on particularly bad days. Anorexia, though, that was something she could do. No food meant no extra pounds. That wasn’t a bad thing. She was the captain, she had an image to maintain. She could control it. She could…

“Santana?” There was a tap on the stall door, a concerned voice flooding the room.

“Go away, Quinn.” Santana snapped, squeezing her eyes shut tighter. Okay, so maybe there was some person aside from Brittany who actually cared, who showed concern. She always had and that made Santana feel even more like shit because Quinn had always cared and yet through Quinn’s pregnancy Santana had abandoned her. And Santana knew that she had done a damn good job of keeping Quinn in the dark about her, until then. Which was why she was surprised when she heard shuffling that signified that Quinn was crawling beneath the stall door.

“Santana, please don’t,” She whispered, edging closer. “Please…” She lifted a hand to rest it on Santana’s shoulder, but she jerked it away and curls closer to the toilet.

“Go away, Stretch Marks.” She hated herself for it, because she knew that Beth was a sore subject for Quinn, but really, she just needed Quinn to go away. “Go away, Quinn.” She said again, but she moaned it this time and holy fuck-is she crying? She hated crying over that shit. She was supposed to be badass. She was supposed to be in control. She cried, sure—but usually on command and she did not give these tears permission to come. Fuck. Fuck shit. She only wanted to be in control. Why did it have to be so damn hard? The glee thing, the Sue thing, the… the gay thing.

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t push me away, Santana.” Quinn’s hand came up and rested between Santana’s shoulder blades again, but this time Santana did not pull away from the contact. A sob ripped up from her chest, rocked her as she stood up from the toilet bowl and flung herself into Quinn’s arms. They were curled together on the bathroom floor, and Quinn whispered soft promises that things would get better. When Santana felt wetness drip against her forehead, she realized that the blonde was crying, too.

“I’m sorry,” She said, breathing, clinging harder. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She chanted the words against Quinn’s skin. There were no words she could say, nothing to make it better.

“It gets better, Santana.” She whispered, hugging the Latina tighter in a rare moment of affection. “I promise, we’ll make it better. Together.” They were silent for a long time, crying together until Santana’s sobs quieted and Quinn was just rocking her like a small child.

“Don’t tell anyone, Quinn.” Santana said as she unwrapped herself from Quinn’s arms and stood up from the dingy floor.

“How long have you been doing this, San?” Quinn asked, standing up and wiping her tears from her face with her hands. Santana ignored her question and moved to examine herself in the bathroom mirror. Her makeup was completely ruined, her uniform rumpled, and her eyes were red.

“Santana?” Quinn asked again, moving towards her.

“Just let it be, Q.” Santana said dismissively, her walls once again raising themselves around her. She hated herself for shutting Quinn out, because she knew that Quinn more than anyone could relate, could understand. It was no secret that Quinn had had her problems with food, especially in freshman year when she was fresh out of her “Lucy” phase.

“You could die from this, Santana.” Quinn said, reaching over to brush one of Santana’s lashes that had fallen from her eyes. Santana swatted her hand away.

“Oh, just spare me the lecture, okay. I know what I’m doing.” Santana said defensively, although anyone with eyes could see that it was a load of crap. Santana had absolutely no idea _what_ she was doing or when it would finally be too much. She didn’t think of stopping anytime soon, and Quinn knew that. She could die from this, but at least she’d die pretty. She’d die thin.

“I really hope you know what you’re doing, Santana.”

It was a few days later that Santana sat in the back row of glee as always, listening to Mr.Schue drone on about Journey or some other old band that nobody gave a hell about anymore. Her legs were draped over Brittany’s lap and Brittany was playing with Quinn’s hair as Quinn sat in front of them. The room was getting blurrier, but she managed to keep it together. She had been there many times before, and she knew that just like those times, the dizziness would go away. It wasn’t until halfway through _‘To Fix You’_ that the room began to move, and the lights began to be really really blurry, she could see shapes beneath her closed eyelids, twisting and shifting.

She came to a minute later, the faces of the glee club loomed above her, their faces blurry. She could see their lips move but couldn’t hear what they were saying. It wasn’t until a few seconds after that the auditorium came into focus. Brittany’s face was the first thing she saw, her blue eyes shimmering with tears as she said Santana’s name. Brittany was holding Quinn’s left hand as Quinn held on to Santana’s own hand with her right.

The next thing she saw was Mr.Schue, whispering frantically into the phone as he called the ambulance. _No,_ Santana wanted to say, _I’m fine._ She begged her legs to move, but even she could not take the effort. She was exhausted. Utterly exhausted. She saw Quinn’s face double and the room shift back out of focus, and the last thing that she remembers is hoping that Brittany was okay as she sobbed into Quinn’s shoulder.

When Santana woke up in the hospital, she awoke to this annoying beeping sound. She opened her eyes to a glaring white room, and it took a few seconds for her to remember where she was. Brittany and Quinn were curled up on the loveseat in the corner of the room, and her mom was sleeping in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs. She made a loud moaning noise when she realized how hard her head was throbbing. She heard Brittany stir in her sleep and then a shriek,

“Q! Santana’s awake! Quinn!” Brittany said, moving from where she was previously cuddled into Quinn. She looked so relieved that Santana actually felt _guilty._ She didn’t really want to think about it, but she knew that Brittany was probably going through hell. At least, Santana knew that _she_ would be going through hell if the roles were reversed. Quinn moved in her sleep, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw that Santana was awake she sprung into a sitting position, her red eyes and bed hair signaling that she had been there for a while.

Brittany moved towards Santana, taking her hand in her own. “San?” Brittany said softly, with uncertainty, as if testing if she was actually there.

“Hi, Britt.” Santana said, trying to sound calm, although she felt like her throat was on fire and someone was pounding a hammer into her head. Luckily, Quinn caught on to this and poured her a glass of water from the pitcher that was on the bedside table. Santana accepted it graciously and sipped at it cautiously, her throat still felt rough.

“What happened?” Brittany asked, and Santana saw grief inside those blue eyes, and couldn’t help but feel angry at herself because she made Brittany sad. That was something that she had promised she would never do. She looked pleadingly at Quinn, begging her to explain what Santana couldn’t bring herself to say.

“Quinnie already told me that you—about what she saw, in the bathroom. Is- is that why you fainted, Santana?” All Santana could do was nod, the guilt of the situation crushing her shoulders as she continued to lie there, tightening her grasp on Brittany’s hand. Quinn moved closer then, going on the other side of the small bed and grabbing Santana’s other hand, trying to remind her of the promise she made. Santana clasped it tighter then, remembering the scene in the bathroom. _We’ll make it better, together._

And Santana did want to be better. She wanted to be able to eat pizza with everyone else and not calculate in her head how to get rid of it. She wanted to be able to have clothes that actually fit besides her custom-made Cheerios uniform, some that didn’t hang off her small frame and looked two sizes too big. She wanted to be able to look into the mirror and not feel repulsed by the being that resided inside of it. She just didn’t know how to get there.

She didn’t know how she got to that place, she never intended for it to get that bad. She just needed to make weight. But the feeling of being in control was too wonderful to let go. She thrived off it, it kept her going. It kept her able to run through the motions of school and home without cracking. The mask was intact for a while, but her foundation soon began to crack, and all she could do from slipping through the cracks was keep the façade going. Nobody had to know what went on behind closed doors, right?

“Are you hungry, Santana?” Quinn said, and Brittany looked at her pleadingly. They needed her to say yes. For their own good, and for her own, she needed to get better. She had done enough, she had not only hurt them, she had hurt herself, and she didn’t know if she’d ever really be okay again. The cut on her soul would stop bleeding with time, but even she knew that it would never really close.

“Starving.” She responded, and she knew that she had done the right thing, if not for herself, then for them. They needed it a lot more than she did. Their faces practically lit up when she said yes, and Brittany’s eyes had a newfound shine to them. The cut on her soul would never really close, but Brittany and Quinn would be there to stop the bleeding.

There was a scratch on Santana’s record. A scar that would remain, it was something that no cream or ointment could get rid of. It would remain, etched on her skin. There was a new scar on her record and she knew that it was often that the record would skip, but there was really nothing she could do about it except let it play through a little more flawed than before.


	2. brittany

Brittany was a sweetheart. Everyone liked her, she was loveable. A little too innocent and a little bit stupid. She had trouble with things like breakfast and was repeating senior year. But she could dance. Nobody could deny that. She had an innate grace as she glided across the stage twirling and jumping in complicated moves. She could master even the most difficult of routines in what seemed like a stupidly short amount of time.

Brittany Pierce was promiscuous. Everyone agreed, but nobody complained. Brittany lost her virginity at cheerleading camp the summer before freshman year. Alien invasion, she called it. She didn’t like the other word—the one that her parents and the police and her therapist used. It was hard and sounded scary. It started with a growl like a bear and had a sharp ‘P.’ _Rape._ She hated that word, it was horrible. That didn’t happen to her. It was an alien invasion. See? Sounds better.

Her therapist said that the reason she slept around so much her first three years of high school was because she was trying to trivialize what happened to her. Brittany thought that she was probably right, but she didn’t really want to accept it. Sex was fun. She liked fun. But sex was better with feelings, and that’s what she and Santana had. She didn’t sleep around as much anymore, because she had Santana and Santana was all she needed—unless you count doing it in a lot of different places, in which case, yes, she definitely slept around tons that past year.

Brittany was smart back in middle school. Like, really smart. Perfect GPA. But after the incident, whenever she had tests and things, she was reminded about after the invasion when she had to go to the police station and all those adults in uniforms were asking her all those questions that she didn’t know how to answer—and she didn’t _want_ to answer. Like where he touched her and how it happened and why she didn’t call out for help right away. She didn’t like to think about it so whenever she had to take tests and stuff her head would go all squiggly and she couldn’t remember anything so she just ended up drawing rainbows all over her test papers and saying things like “Sometimes I can’t remember my middle name.” It calmed her down.

Her parents would read her diary. So would her therapist. It was to chart her recovery after the incident. When she first found out, it was really infuriating because it was supposed to be her safe space. She didn’t want them knowing what went on in her head. For a while, she didn’t write in it at all after she found out. In fact, she didn’t do anything. Her brain just kind of shut down for a little bit and she couldn’t talk or do much, but then she heard her mom crying in their bedroom and saying things like “it’s my fault” over and over and she decided it would be easier to pretend that she was getting better than to dwell on it.

So the next day, she wrote in her diary that she could feel the pain go away a little bit and she knew her mom read it because she was really happy that day and Brittany didn’t hear her cry that night. Her mom knew that Brittany didn’t like them reading her diary so once, her mom sat with Lord Tubbington on her lap and made it seem like he was reading it. It made Brittany smile, and whenever she would get flashbacks of rough hands grabbing her—like if she was with Santana having sweet lady kisses, she just thought about Lord Tubbington pretending to be human and it would go away a little bit.

Brittany didn’t really like telling people about the incident. Quinn knew because she was there when it happened, a few tents away, of course. And Santana knew because she was Santana and Brittany told her everything. Brittany told Santana about halfway through sophomore year when they were having one of their sleepovers. Santana was making out with her, which was great and totally cool, but then her hands turned into his and she freaked out a little bit. She started crying and told Santana that she wanted her mom to come, but Susan was away that weekend and the house was empty and all Santana could do was hold Brittany while she cried. Santana kept thinking that she had done something wrong, and Brittany wanted to tell her that she hadn’t done anything wrong and that she was perfect, but she couldn’t really find the words. After a while she noticed that there were tears on Santana’s cheeks (which was weird because Santana Lopez _never_ cried, ever.) and that she was begging her to tell her what was wrong. So she did. Santana would just about killed someone that night, except the only person that was there was Brittany and she wouldn’t dare and hurt Brittany. Ever.

But aside from her, she had never told anyone. Quinn and her parents and Coach Sue and the police were different because they had found out by themselves, and she had never actually had to say the ugly word out loud before. _Rape._ Her therapist didn’t make her say it, and her parents didn’t push her, and Quinn didn’t really know what to do with Brittany after the incident, so she never bothered with it. It was unnecessary. It was rough.

For a long time after the incident, Quinn came to her house every day. She told Brittany that it was because she was worried about her and she wanted to be there for her, but Brittany knew that Quinn was having problems at home and couldn’t deal with them by herself. Brittany had a way with people, numbers made her brain hurt, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t smart anymore. She just had a way with people that she didn’t used to. Some people could look at a board with a bunch of numbers and squiggly lines and know that it meant math, like she used to, but others could look at a person and see beneath their masks, like she could.

You see, both her and Quinn were puzzles in which the pieces didn’t quite fit, so they had to cut out the corners and fill in the spaces with glue and hope for the best. But no matter how well put together a puzzle is, if it doesn’t fit, its pieces will come apart. Brittany could feel Quinn slipping away from her and her pieces were coming apart. She just didn’t know when she would fall apart for good.

After a while, Quinn stopped coming to her house, and only talked to her at school. But they still ate lunch together and Quinn still asked her how she was doing, and it was okay. But by the summer before sophomore year, they barely spoke except at cheerios practice, and even then it was only formalities. Quinn was slipping away, and Brittany didn’t know if she would be able to reach her that time around. In the beginning of sophomore year, Brittany met Santana. Santana had recently made it into the Cheerios and she knew exactly how to put all of the girls in her place. She was almost exactly like Quinn, and Brittany liked her for it. She was a little more aggressive and a little less nice, but she was definitely more than enough.

Santana liked her, she was nice and sweet and never had a bad word to say about anyone. She was definitely the nicest girl on the squad, and probably the only one that hadn’t let nail polish and peroxide damage her brain cells. She wasn’t the smartest girl, but she was definitely the best girl on the squad (no matter what Quinn Fabray said.)

Santana made her better. Her sweet kisses felt nothing like his, and she didn’t think about the invasion as much when she was with her. Santana didn’t push her, especially after she found out, but Brittany felt good when she was with her. She thought less about things that hurt and thought more about how happy she was with her. She still felt shame about what happened at cheer champ though, even if her therapist said that it definitely was _not_ her fault. But one time her mom told her that bad people always get what they deserve in the end, and in that case, wouldn’t it mean that she was getting what she deserved?

Brittany didn’t like telling people what happened, so when it accidentally slipped out when Rachel called them in for a glee girls meeting, she expected them to say something. She didn’t really mean to tell them, and for a second she saw Rachel look at her in disbelief before a dismissive look crossed her face. _They didn’t believe me_ , she thought, and for a second she was actually a little relieved. That way she wouldn’t have to explain herself to them. It was all for the best, right? But _god,_ they must’ve at least been little more worried. They might have thought that she was just saying something Brittany-ish, but at least Santana and Quinn should have known better.

Especially Santana, because she knew how uncomfortable it was for Brittany to even mention it. She knew how much she hated even mentioning it and she just sat there like it was nothing. Brittany couldn’t do much for the remainder of the meeting, she just sat there thinking until the bell rang and she ran to the nearest bathroom.

Her head was beginning to feel a little fuzzy, and it reminded her of how she felt during questioning. She tried to picture Lord Tubbington reading her diary to calm herself down, but she realized that she couldn’t really remember what it looked like and she drove herself into a panic. Nobody else was in the bathroom, and all of the mirrors and doors kind of started to blend together and she could feel the breathing get harder.

She sat on the floor, even though it was probably really dirty and musty, and she tried to get her breathing under control. _In, out, in, out, just like mom showed you._ She closed her eyes shut and tried to breathe, just like her therapist had told her to. She didn’t notice the door opening as Santana walked in, kneeling next to her.

“Britt? Babe?” She heard the sweetest voice carry through her muddled hallucinations. She couldn’t say anything, but all she could do was nod at her, letting her know that she had heard her. The next thing that Brittany felt were strong arms wrapping around her, and she heard the sound of a door opening.

“Britt? Santana?” A sweet voice called out, and Brittany was brought a little bit back into her senses about the real world. When she opened her eyes the bathroom mirrors didn’t move anymore and the strong arms that held her kept her from floating off again. She saw Quinn standing in the corner of the bathroom, staring at them like she didn’t know what to do.

“I-um… I wanted to come check on you because you ran off kind of quickly and um I know that you—about what you said in there. About what happened in cheer camp? Are you okay? I mean you’re not but are you?” Quinn rambled, her eyes darting between Santana who still held Brittany like a child and Brittany, who was still crying. Brittany didn’t really know what to say to her. She wasn’t okay, if that was what Quinn was asking. She had let her mind wander back into the hurtful dark place that was her past, and she was paying the price. She hadn’t had a freak out like this one in a while, because for God’s sake it had been four years and Brittany should have been a lot better by then.

Brittany couldn’t find the words to express herself, she didn’t know what to say to Quinn, who stood in the corner biting her lower lip, debating whether or not to step forward. She knew that Quinn felt guilty about abandoning her at the end of freshman year, and yet she knew that Quinn was still hurt when _they_ abandoned _her_ during her pregnancy in sophomore year. She needed them. Both of them, and they just kind of left her to cope by herself. She never felt included in the Unholy Trinity, which was something that both Brittany and Santana had to take the blame for. Brittany could have held resentment for Quinn, she could have and she would have had the reason to. But Quinn could have held sophomore year against her too, but she didn’t and maybe that was all that mattered. Brittany stood up from her spot on the floor and walked to Quinn, squeezing her shoulder.

“Q-tip?” She whispered, because that was her nickname for Quinn before everything went to hell. She saw Quinn’s eyes water and her lip quiver as she grasped Brittany’s cheerios sweatshirt and pulled her in for a rough hug.

“Bumblebee,” Quinn said, sobbing quietly into Brittany’s ear. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Quinn repeated the words over and over like a mantra, her tears making a small black puddle on the sleeve of Brittany’s shoulder.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I promise.” Brittany said, pulling out of Quinn’s embrace and turning to Santana who was staring at them suspiciously. Okay, no, she was staring at Q suspiciously because she had already hurt Brittany once and she’d be damned if she was going to let it happen again. She debated whether to yell at Quinn or hug her, because as much as she cared for Britt and wanted to protect her, Quinn looked so ready to completely fall apart that Santana couldn’t help but feel a little sad for her. She’d never been there for her, not really. Sure, they had their moments, but their friendship was more on and off than one of Taylor Swift’s relationships.

Santana walked towards them and Brittany grabbed her hand and Quinn’s, pushing them together. Brittany knew that they had their problems in the past, but they are the Unholy Trinity and nothing is ever supposed to get between them. _Starting together, ending together, remember?_ Santana smiled softly at Quinn before pulling her into a short embrace. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

For a long time, Brittany was scared to tell anyone what was going on with her. She was afraid of saying what was happening aloud, because then it would be real. It was a lot easier to pretend, to say things like, “I was pretty sure Dr. Pepper was a dentist.” It was easier to pretend to not be able to remember things because then she wouldn’t have to remember that night in the tent. It’s a lot easier to live in your head than it is to face reality, so Brittany had built her own worlds in her head. It was better there, more beautiful.

But she was ready to let it go. She knew that she would never be okay, not really. Her nightmares would never really subside. And her pieces would fall apart eventually, but at least she had Quinn and Santana to help piece them back together.


	3. quinn

Quinn could still feel the ghosts of Beth’s gentle fingers on her skin. She could close her eyes and see Beth’s own, she could look in the mirror and see so much resemblance between herself and her child. Quinn has a lot of scars, but the ones that hurt the most are the ones that reminded her of Beth. There was the stretch marks that hooked around her midsection, constantly taunting her and reminding her of a life that she left behind.

Quinn used to have other dreams, before Beth. She dreamt of a lot of different things—going to college, getting a good job, getting married. But then Beth came along and as soon as Quinn gazed into Beth’s beautiful eyes and felt Beth’s warm body against hers, none of that was really worth anything anymore. After having Beth, Beth became her dream.

She was Beth’s mom, and for a moment that was really all that mattered. But then she wasn’t Beth’s mom. Because Shelby was. She had given up the right to hear Beth’s voice coo “Mommy” softly in her ear, and as much as she understood that, it didn’t make it hurt any less. Because even after Beth was given to Shelby, the pain didn’t go away. It continued to be there, a dull ache that demanded to be felt. Even after she knew for sure that Beth was not going to be Beth Fabray but instead she was going to be Beth Corcoran, she continued to dream of her baby.

She never stopped thinking about Beth. Ever since that day in the hospital where she released Beth into a better life, a part of her had been missing. She didn’t have the desire to be a mother at that age, she still doesn’t. That’s not why she missed her. She missed her because she was the only perfect thing that Quinn had ever made. She was the one perfection to arise out of seventeen years of failure. Do you know what it’s like to have your perfect thing look at you with absolute love and trust? Quinn does.

Beth didn’t know how damaged Quinn was. She could have been good enough for this one human being, because no one had told her that she wouldn’t be. Except she couldn’t be good enough, not really. Good enough would mean being able to give Beth the life that she deserved. She wanted to so bad, but she could never know how to love Beth like she deserves.

Quinn had never really loved anyone, she had never known true love until she gazed into Beth’s eyes. She had grown up in a house that was far from a home, with Judy’s drinking and Russell’s constant abuse. Quinn had hated herself for years, even after she had transformed from Lucy to Quinn, because her father had never let her believe any different. For the longest time she was sure that she was nothing, that she was worth nothing, simply because Russell never let her believe any different. Quinn knew that Judy regretted having her, and probably Frannie too, and she had never felt wanted.

All Quinn has ever wanted is to be _loved_ and to be wanted. She just wanted somebody to love her, to look at her and acknowledge her and feel love when they looked at her. Her parents never liked her the way she was, especially when she was a child, when she was _Lucy._ And for a while she thought that she could get the school to want her by being popular. For a while, it worked. She was popular, and she was dating the quarterback, but that wasn’t enough.

When Puck started to want her, she thought that maybe it would make it better, that maybe it would dull the ache in her heart just a little and make her just a little less cold and lonely. But then she got pregnant and that just made it worse. When she was pregnant, nobody wanted her, except maybe Puck. And her life continued to shape itself around other people’s wants. Sam wanted to marry her, so she dated him, even if she didn’t really like him all that much and looked like he could be her brother which totally made her uncomfortable. Finn wanted them to get back together, so they did, although he still left her for Rachel at a funeral of all places.

She didn’t want Beth to have that. She didn’t want Beth to have to beg for scraps of love, because Beth deserved better. Beth deserved to have love, the kind of love that Quinn knew that she would not be able to give her. Quinn didn’t know _how_ to love correctly. Sure, she loved Beth. But she knew that she could not give her the life that she deserved. So instead, Quinn gave her her smile. She made a galaxy with the satin of her mouth and traced constellations with her tongue. If nothing else, she had to teach her daughter that she can always find her way by following the light of her mother’s smile. That her love for the girl is as infinite as the galaxies and cannot be contained.

But then Beth left with Shelby and took Quinn’s smile with her and Quinn’s world had never been darker.

So, when Quinn got blindsided by a car on the way to Rachel’s wedding, she thought for a second that she was going to die, and she was happy. At least then she wouldn’t have to think about her. The glass shattered against her skin and even though it hurt like a bitch and she was laying limp by the side of the road in seconds, she could feel her body deflating and her breathing was becoming harder. The last thing she remembers thinking of is Beth. She remembers thinking of Beth’s tinkling laughter when she was with Shelby, and she remembers the way Shelby was amazing with Beth and thinking that maybe Beth never needed her smile after all. She just hoped that Beth would have a good life.

It didn’t take long for the paramedics to get her, and she remembers seeing the ambulance coming to her before having her eyes flutter shut and she hoped that they were too late. She just hoped for a second that they wouldn’t be able to save her.

Sure enough though, soon she could see shapes underneath her eyelids, light and dark, twisting and shifting. The first thing she felt when she woke up was a grip on her hand before her eyes fluttered once, twice, and then open. She saw Brittany’s eyes above her, shifting between her face and the machines that were beeping much louder than they were before. She looked toward the right and caught sight of Santana, who was out of her seat and out the door in a second, shouting for the nurse, leaning into the hallway like she couldn’t bring herself to actually leave.

“Quinn?” Brittany murmured, leaning over to find her eyes and the cloudiness that fell over them. Quinn’s tongue darted out to lick her chapped lips. “Quinn, can you hear me?”

“I--” Quinn croaked out, as Santana shouted once again into the hallway for a nurse. Quinn coughed and swallowed before she tried again. “I feel like I… got hit by a truck.”

There was silence in the room for a long time after that and then Santana choked out a strangled laugh and turned to stare at her, eyes fixing on Quinn’s face like she was checking if she was really there.

“God, Quinn.” Santana huffed out, something like relief in her voice, and Brittany pressed her hand to her mouth to try and stop the bubble of laughter that was threatening to erupt. It wasn’t funny. It was _really_ not funny, but it was Quinn. It was _their_ Quinn and she was finally awake and looking at them like she recognized them, and Brittany wasn’t sure if that would ever happen again.

“Welcome back, sleepyhead,” Brittany offered her a watery smile, ghosting her hand against Quinn’s cheek as gently as she could to pull Quinn’s gaze back to her. “We missed you.”

The next few weeks were the hardest. Quinn had weeks and weeks before she could even use her hands to lift herself up again. It wasn’t the physical pain that was the worst, although all of the physical therapy was especially grueling. Her bones would ache with every movement and she would feel like she had run a marathon even though all she had done was lie there while other people moved her legs for her. Santana and Brittany made it to almost every one of her sessions, Brittany helping move her legs gently while Santana yelled at the doctors if she could see that they were hurting her too much.

They almost always were, but over time she could feel herself getting better. It wasn’t great, but it was something. The worst part was feeling like she couldn’t do _anything._ Everything had to be done for her, like she was some sort of child. Do you know how absolutely _degrading_ it is to have the nurse have to check if you crapped yourself?

She got frustrated easily at her inability to do things for herself, and the fact that she was trapped in that bed with no end in sight. Her mom and Brittany and Santana were there every single day, and she saw the rest of the glee club and even some of the nicer cheerios in turns, they’d worked out some sort of schedule for visiting hours that she wasn’t privy to, but it was still lonely and she couldn’t help but wonder what they were doing in glee without her and if anyone really missed her when she was gone.

The first time she used her right hand to grab something after the bones had mended it was Santana’s leg, because she had been sitting with her feet up on the bed nudging Quinn with her foot even though Quinn had been telling her to stop for the better part of twenty minutes, arms folded across her chest with an infuriatingly innocent smirk on her fact. When Quinn finally pushed her away, Santana’s smile turned sincere, and Brittany started cheering from her place at the bottom of the bed, where she had been helping Quinn bend her leg back and forth at the ankle, hands holding her leg carefully as they supported her weight.

The week that Quinn had her cast taken off her leg, she fell over when she tried to make her own weight to the bathroom and then she screamed at Brittany and Santana not to help her while she tried to get back in the bed. Brittany watched in silence, feeling Santana shift nervously next to her, wanting to help Quinn but forcing herself to stay and watch Quinn as she tried to get on the bed before huffing in frustration and collapsing back on the floor.

Quinn pressed her face against the metal bed frame and cried noisily, and Santana stared at Brittany helplessly, her mouth open like she wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words, silently begging Brittany to do something. Brittany took one step waiting to see if Quinn would notice, and when she didn’t say anything she took another, and then another until she was on the floor next to Quinn and reached for her, stroking her hair back from her face.

Quinn sobbed into her shoulder as Brittany held her, careful to avoid the bandages and the places that she knew were still scarred, and then Santana got on Quinn’s other side and tried to hold them both.

Two days later, Quinn only manages to stand up for ten minutes before her knees start to buckle and then Brittany is there to catch her and hold her up, and Quinn forced her still-awkward fingers to grip the back of Brittany’s shirt and hold on. Brittany’s arms were strong around her, and after a moment she began to guide Quinn around the room in a waltz, humming breathy music until Quinn felt her frustration melt away. Brittany carried her for a long time as if it was although she weighed nothing at all and Quinn held on for a long time before she let Brittany put her down, and then Brittany smiled at her before she spun away.

The first time she walked unaided down the length of the corridor, Brittany and Santana were on either side of her, waiting to hold her if she fell. She felt incredibly shake as she made it down to the double doors at the end, but she hadn’t needed their help, and when she started to lean into Santana on their way back, neither of them mentioned it.

It was a week later when Quinn was informed that she would finally be able to go home, and Santana and Brittany were there to celebrate with her. They informed the rest of the glee club and they all sent their sentiments and said that they were glad to have her back, but none of them showed up that day at the hospital, which Quinn suspected had something to do with the fact that Santana had deemed it strictly “Unholy-Trinity time,” but Quinn didn’t mention it.

They were in the middle of watching an old episode of Friends on Santana’s laptop when they heard a tentative knock on the door and saw Judy’s face peek in. “Quinnie?” Judy said meekly, a little red in the face.

“What, mom?” Quinn asked, disinterested, her eyes still carefully trained on Santana’s laptop.

“Quinnie, there’s someone here to see you.” Judy’s eyes were wide, which, looking back, should have alerted Quinn of something, but she dismissed it.

“Let them in.”

Shelby’s face peeked in first, and Quinn’s mind went in a million different directions as Santana closed the laptop and put it on the nightstand, sensing that this was something important. Shelby stepped in, and when Quinn caught sight of the little blonde that was sitting in her arms, her heart did a double take. She was still perfect, even more then than the last time she had seen her, if that was even possible. Quinn could feel her heart pound in her chest as she looked at her and started into her piercing hazel eyes that looked so much like Quinn’s.

Quinn threw her legs over the side of the bed as Brittany stood up and Santana wrapped a protective arm around her midsection. She looked again at Beth, and saw something so perfect. Beth was the most perfect thing that Quinn had ever seen and she wondered how exactly she of all people on the planet had made something so perfect. Not even Quinn could screw her up.

Seeing Beth made the ache in Quinn’s heart grow to an excruciating pain and before she knew it she was yelling at her mom and at Shelby to get her out. She couldn’t see her—not then. Shelby was quick to walk out, taking Beth with her. Judy walked out next, because even though she was much nicer after she separated from her father, that didn’t mean that she and Quinn were any closer.

Quinn sat there, an excruciating pain in her heart. It hurt more than her bones on wet days, and she felt Santana’s arms wrap around her as she lay her head on Santana’s shoulder and cried. Beth was her everything. She was Beth’s mother—but she wasn’t. How can Quinn be a mother without a child? It hurt too much to see Beth and yet not be able to have her. How could Quinn go back to a simple dream about college after Beth? How could she even be whole?

Quinn wanted to die in that moment, but she didn’t. She held on to Santana and Brittany like they were lifelines. She survived, because she’s Quinn Fabray and that is what she is supposed to do.

She survived, and she moved on and walked again, thanks to them, but the pain of losing Beth is always there. Yes, Quinn Fabray is perfect, but she’s hurting. Santana and Brittany help, they try and put out the fire that stings her blood with loss but it will never be extinguished. The only time it fades is when she forgets about her, but that never really happens anymore.

On the day that she went back to school, her mom dropped her off and Brittany and Santana were waiting for her outside the main building, swinging their clasped hands and laughing at some private joke. Quinn wanted that, she hated to say it but she envied them for what they had. She loved them, no doubt about that, and they loved her back, but they had a different bond between them. She took a deep breath and pushed through the crowd, her arm curled around her middle protectively as she tried to stop herself from flinching every time someone bumped into her.

They saw her coming and broke out into matching grins, and they stood on either side of her like always, their hands ready to catch her in case she fell.


End file.
